


Paramnesia Loop

by Aradellia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Tragedy, Inspired by Music, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aradellia/pseuds/Aradellia
Summary: He woke up in a room covered in objects he recognized but didn't remember, papers with drawings he couldn't recollect, with memories so large and blank he couldn't comprehend them. Yet, through the haze, there was something he could recall. The drawings, once searched and looked at, revealed the same thing.A man's face. Silver hair stylishly flipped over one of two beautiful clear ocean blue eyes.This man, whoever he is... he doesn't know him, but yet why does he feel like he should knoweverythingabout him?





	1. The Room with Bloodstains

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in a desperate need of motivation to continue my other fics, so I hopped onto Youtube and flipped through recommended lists and I ran into a vocaloid song called Donut Hole, and the idea behind it is... oh, I love it. Let's throw more angst fics and soulmate aus into this fandom, shall we?
> 
>    
> [I recommend listening to Donut Hole as you read!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-Epnpruww0)

When he opened his eyes, the ceiling above him was several faded shades of grey, a monochrome across his blurry vision. A quick blink, clear his vision before he went cross-eyed, revealed the ceiling to be now a darker shade of grey, a sinister monochrome that told him to close his eyes and disappear into it. Another blink, several to be exact, turned the ceiling an off-white color, the texture visible despite the paint nearly hiding all of its flaws. He couldn't remember ever having to look to a ceiling like that before, memories blank on any room or home that could have such a texture to it. He blinked rapidly once again, rubbing his eyes as the ceiling color blinked between blue, wood brown, and the faded mixtures of grey until he closed them and black encompassed him. For a moment, he felt like he was floating and moving, and opened his eyes to a blank white ceiling. Looking to his right yielded another white wall, but there were cracks in the plaster of the wall.

Blindly, Yuuri patted the shallow bed he laid out on, searching the bedside table and along his side, finding his blue rimmed glasses absent. With a thoughtful hum, he searched under the black pillow he had laid his head on, sighing in relief as he found them safely tucked under the soft pillow. Quickly cleaning them with his shirt, he slipped them onto his face, adjusting them before opening his eyes again, looking around the room.

A mostly empty room, with white walls all around. One window rested along the far wall, but the view yielded only more white. A single dresser rest in the far right corner, the hinges slightly rusted and one door partly hanging off broken hinges. A bookcase lay half collapsed against the ground on the left wall, books and trophies spilled over across the ground. Some pages were wet, ruined by the puddle building under it. He blinked rapidly, the room turning black, blue, stained in red, and then white again until the final blink brought the darkness into the room, revealing the small puddle and the book's wet pages to be red as blood. A musky smell fermented in the air. He looked to the bed, finding the sheets now to be an ugly brown color, the bed half broken despite still holding his weight. The sheets were chewed through with holes, most likely from moths, and the wall behind him was covered in tally marks.

Yuuri didn't recognize this ugly place. 

Yet, he felt it was familiar. Like he had been here for so long, he was used to the waste it had become.

How? Why? What was so familiar about this? 

Memories, recognition, recognizance, auto-pilot, muscle memory. All the smells, both hideous and welcoming, all the sights, both dangerous and homely, it all felt like a twisted version of home. This place... he knew and did not know it.

What was he doing here?

The room was small, cramped, and stank of things he didn't want to look for. It was a small, contained wasteland. It smelled of blood, his eyes going to the small, obviously fresh puddle sitting underneath the destroyed bookcase, and of faint urine. The second smell had him off his feet, wanting to be away from it, but he was remarkably calm. Stepping onto the floor, he realized then that it was freezing cold. He went to reach for a blanket, blinking, the black comforter disappearing. He gave a sad sigh before turning back to the destruction within the room.

How long had he felt like he knew this place? How many times had he woken up in this broken, smelly, run down room that looked to be in an abandoned home?

It didn't make sense, being here. It didn't make sense why there was always, always and without fail, fresh blood on the ground in any one spot in the room. Sometimes the closet would be broken, sometimes the bookcase, and even the small window would be sometimes cracked.

Another series of blinks. The comforter is back across the bed, though now a new hole had been torn through the bottom corner. The blood under the bookshelf has been cleaned away as best as possible, leaving only an ugly series of red smears. Some of the books have disappeared, while the few that weren't covered in blood are put back on what remains of the shelf. A new piece of paper flutters across the small table in the middle of the room.

The drawings were always so expressive and detailed, despite the obvious lack of real tools to capitalize on the skill the artist had. Though, the drawings were always the same, always the same face with different expressions and degrees of disarray. The same terrified wide eyes on a beautiful angled face, and hair flopping one eye. Sometimes there were marks on the face, and sometimes there was blood on the drawings themselves. Sometimes the hair on the man's head would be moving in one direction, as if pulled. He picked up the new drawing, looking upon the same face that had haunted him ever since he had begun to wake up in this dangerous and dim room.

The new drawing was colored, unlike the others strictly in pencil grey. The hair was sloppily shaded a grey, or perhaps a silver, moving as if tugged upward, revealing the man's forehead. The skin was colored a pale tan, almost white, making the red and brown blotches of bruises look ever more present and shocking. His eyes shined like a crystal lake in the blank white of the page, the beautiful blue of the irises full of life, and full of fear and desperation. 

This man, whoever this specter on the page was...

This man was why he was here, wasn't he?

Recall, memory, remembrance, lessons. Was there something familiar about this odd scenario?

> _If your destined person, your soulmate, is ever at risk of death, the soul will draw you to them regardless of what you are doing. You are their last defense, their savior... if you can discover where they are to save them._

Did this mean his soulmate, this man with silver hair and the deepest, most expressive blue eyes he had ever encountered in his life, was his soulmate? Did this mean his soulmate was at risk of dying?

Was this where his soulmate was, in this broken, dangerous, deadly room?

A series of blinks followed his thoughts, changing the room. It seemed colder now, looking to the bed and seeing the comforter gone from its place once again. Some of the papers flutter in the nonexistent wind, and the haunting echo of movement stirs around him for a second. A long blink reveals the door in the room opened a crack. Curiosity was immediately piqued. Never had the door opened while he wandered in this blood stained white room, and never had it been left open like that. He blinks again, twice more, but the door remains open. The papers continue to flutter, rearranging themselves, shuffled and turned over. Yuuri sets the new page back on the table, and turns to the cracked open door.

A cautious hand reached to the doorknob, finding it solid and chilled in his warm palm. Surprisingly, the knob was almost polished, and show nearly no shine of tarnish or rust. He twisted it open, slowly pulling the door open before he let himself blink. The door swung wildly open, knocking him back from it, the room flooding in blinding white. His ears rung painfully as he tried to understand what happened, ending up on his hands and knees escaping the door. Within the ringing in his ears, he could hear cries of pain from another voice not his own, the sobs of something trying to make something stop. He closed his eyes, embracing the darkness of his eyelids. Everything hurt suddenly.

He opened his eyes to a dark wood floor, and the sound of water falling. Someone's hand was on his shoulder. The room was cool and calming, the smell of warm incense flooding his nose. His knees ached from landing on the familiar wood floor, collapsing onto it with a last huff of breath before slowly rolling onto his back, looking up at the blank ceiling above him. It too was a brown color, to match the ground. The coolness of the ground clashed with the heat of his body, hiding his eyes with a stretch of his arm.

A voice was speaking to him, trying to get his attention. He groaned against the noise, but he knew something was important about it. He slowly uncovered his eyes, the ringing in his ears fading out to allow the voice to come clearer.

"Yuuri? Are you there, are you back?"

"P-Phichit..." it hurt to speak, whimpering gently as a hand went to his throat. His friend, Phichit, was in his field of vision, yelling for others out of his sight. Phichit slowly pulled him into a sitting position, handing him a water which he gladly began gulping down to help his painfully dry throat.

He coughed out the pain as it disappeared.

"Alright, you're back for now." Phichit's relief was clear from his voice to his expression, his hands squeezing Yuuri's shoulders, "Let's get you something to eat before you leave us again."

"...Again?" Yuuri didn't quite understand what Phichit was talking about, his mind slow to keep up on what the subject was.

Phichit's expression drooped, "Not entirely back. Are you seeing that room again, Yuuri?"

"The room...."

The haunting white room marked in blood, and drawings of a beautiful man he couldn't escape. He looked around the plain room, looking over the furniture and closet, glancing at his bed which he had fallen out of, and the window opened to let in the sound of rain.

The far right corner, hidden partly by the shadows. The white was obvious now against the dark wood.

He pointed to it for Phichit, who nodded and helped him to his feet where he swayed and fell into Phichit's arms, leaning onto him to help him find the strength to move.

"We don't have much time, then," Phichit grunted, shuffling where Yuuri's arm fell around his shoulders, holding him close to ensure he could walk, "Come on, Yuuri. Let's get you some food before you go back."

Yuuri could only nod, focusing on one foot in front of the other instead of the cracking of the walls around him, brown broken by bloodstained white coming for him on his heels.

How long had he been in that room?

"About two hours." Yuuri didn't think that he had spoken his question out loud, but he didn't bother worrying. "Did you find anything new in there, Yuuri?"

Yuuri was set at a small table, looking over the room. Cracks of white and red and bitter cold wind was beginning to surround him as his sister placed a bowl of katsudon before him, handing him his chopsticks with a supportive smile. He thanked them for the meal, broke his chopsticks apart, and went for a bite before pausing and placing them on the table.

The cry of pain he heard, and the color drawing... those were new.

He mentioned them before beginning to eat, ignoring the corner of the room turning white and marked in scuff marks and the slight trail of dried blood. His sister had faded out of his vision, and the sound of rain was muffled by more ringing in his ears. He told them that he was going back quickly.

"Look for more, Yuuri," a voice urged him, his thoughts scrambled as his chopsticks fell away, and he closed his eyes once again.

"Look for clues to save ------ ---------!"

He opened his eyes a slightly cracked off white ceiling. The smell of blood was sharp in his nose.

Who was he trying to save?


	2. The Room with Dark Wood

Phichit is standing ready at Yuuri's side as the light fades out of his eyes, and his chopsticks slip out of his fingers. He holds him up, resting Yuuri's head against his side as Mari takes the barely finished bowl of katsudon from the table, sighing in defeat as she rotates it slowly around and around, looking to her brother with concern. Phichit holds the same worry as he gently runs his fingers through Yuuri's hair, feeling him shift and settle back into her arms. It was always a worrying and frightful experience to watch Yuuri fade out and back into the bond he shared with his soulmate, their souls desperately trying to connect in some way.

"A short lucid period this time," Mari noted, moving the katsudon into the kitchen before returning to Yuuri and Phichit, helping the Thai boy lift Yuuri from his seat and move him toward his room again, "Will they get any longer?"

"It depends on his soulmate," Phichit recalls, carefully lowering Yuuri onto his bed, groaning as he lifted him and adjusted him so Yuuri was laying out properly, pillow under his head, "I heard that he'll be awake when his soulmate is asleep."

"That doesn't give us good news, then, for Yuuri's soulmate," Mari lamented, "If he's barely lucid, and for very short periods of time, his soulmate is in serious trouble."

Phichit nodded, giving a noise of agreement. If that was true, whoever had his soulmate was making sure they were kept awake. Not a good sign at all. It had been quite a shock when it began. They were still in Detroit, moving between their classes. Yuuri had been talking about the coming season and what he could try to do when he suddenly swayed on his feet, grabbed the back of his head and fell to his knees in pain.

In front of their class.

From there, the class began to panic as Yuuri gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground completely unconscious, stirring the entire building into a tizzy. When they finally got Yuuri out of the classroom and to their dormroom, they were quick to call the on campus paramedics, and they could find nothing wrong with him, with the exception of the completely catatonic state Yuuri was in. A woman studying the effects of soulmate bonds and the 'red string' theory was brought in, just in case, and from there, it had been confirmed without a doubt.

Yuuri's soulmate was at risk of death, and Yuuri was their only help.

Once it was confirmed, they had Yuuri transported on special charter flights from the United States, and back to his home in Hatsetsu. Yuuri's season was already cancelled in the wake of this development, and Phichit, while needing to continue skating to rise in the senior level, wanted to be there for his friend, and volunteered to put his season on hold to look out for Yuuri while he was at his family's hot springs. It didn't help that it was revealed just yesterday that the skating world was getting suddenly attacked from all sides.

Victor Nikiforov was kidnapped two days ago.

New outlets from Russia were reporting that Victor was last seen at his apartment with fellow rinkmates Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich. The two other skaters left at about 12:15am local time, and the next morning Victor hadn't come to practice. When Coach Yakov had gone to Victor's apartment, he found it completely destroyed, and without Victor in sight. The investigation into the scene led police to find obvious evidence of struggles, and Victor's blood was found across his trashed living room. The only clue they had of who attacked and kidnapped him was a bloody bootprint, and a weak testimony from an elderly woman that lived next door.

The skating world was being brought down to its knees. Yuuri had to cancel his season due to his soulmate being in danger, Phichit putting his on hold to look after Yuuri, and Victor being kidnapped. Phichit couldn't help but notice an odd coincidence: the day Yuuri collapsed and was plunged into a 'soulmate coma', Victor was kidnapped. Parallels, was what Phichit assumed. Yuuri was a big fan of Victor, evident by the posters and such which had since been taken down from Yuuri's room to allow for a more mute and calming place for Yuuri to wake up in from his coma-like state. A small but spacious room of polished dark brown wood, a somewhat cluttered desk with a new computer shut down. A spacious drawer full of untouched clothing, a footlocker filled with skating equipment, and a decent twin bed. Phichit always lighted a small stick of soft incense to help clear the air, to keep Yuuri safe just in case. Mari told him that burning the jinkō and sandalwood would keep Yuuri calm in his search for his soulmate.

Mari lit a fresh stick of incense, placing it gently into the ornate lily-shaped incense burner at Yuuri's bedside. Phichit knelt alongside Mari as she bowed her head before her brother, hands placed squarely on her thighs. Phichit mirrored the position, closing his eyes as Mari spoke.

"Hear my prayer,  _kami-sama_. Keep my baby brother safe. Let him complete his soul-bound mission of protecting his soulmate. Let him come home safely. I realize that his red string of fate is important..."

Phichit looked to Mari as she raised her head to the sky, looking to the dark wood of the ceiling, closing her eyes, and letting a single tear slip down her cheek.

"...but his other strings are just as important to him."

* * *

 He smelled blood first. The room was different from normal, and instead of white, slightly cracked ceilings, he was met with cold grey concrete. It smelled of mold and copper blood, a sharp painful smell that burned at his nostrils and made his head pound. This wasn't the normal room where his soulmate was kept. It was new, and terrifying and it made him immediately want to run away and hide. He was laying across a wet flat mattress on the ground, listening to the sound of the rain pounding against the walls. There were several sounds around him, now that he took the time to listen in. The rain hitting the walls, the sound of a drip against the floor. An echoed noise beyond the metal door. 

He blinks.

The brief sound of retching, of vomit hitting the ground, could be heard.

He looked across the barren cell, finding a blanket crumpled up on the floor alongside a pile of what appeared to be vomit. It smelled of copper, the majority of the color a sickening brown-red. It was mostly liquid with some chunks among the pile, and thankfully it was small and hadn't splattered too far. He blinked once, twice, hearing hacking and begging in a language he couldn't understand. Words that didn't make sense.

Something was happening in front of him, something he couldn't see?

He rubbed his eyes, lifting his glasses off of his face for a moment, before placing them back. The pile of vomit was smeared across the floor. Another blink, and a new trail of smearing. He blinked, holding his eyes closed as he let the sounds come in from the darkness.

Words screamed in anger and terror, others whimpered in fear and confusion. Words in a language he couldn't comprehend.

".....STOP! PLEASE-!"

His eyes opened in shock at the shout in English, the barren room suddenly and violently silent as he stared at the floor of the cell.

Fresh blood joined the smeared pile that had been left untouched. The entire room smelled of rancid vomit and blood. It was silent save for the sound of the rain, and the constant drip from the crack in the ceiling. The door was splattered in blood, left slightly ajar.

After a moment, the room went dark, devouring Yuuri and the rest of the bloodstained floors into the darkness. He closed his eyes, knowing it was futile to try and see.

Silence answered him. It welcomed and wrapped around him until a small, broken voice echoed in the black.

_"Save me."_


End file.
